


Friendly, Friendly Friends

by Shaye



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon Smut, plotless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaye/pseuds/Shaye
Summary: The season finale left a few items...unchecked. This is what happens immediately after Happy and Toby leave the garage, ready to start their two-week honeymoon. Pure smut.





	Friendly, Friendly Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southernbookgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/southernbookgirl/gifts).



As her truck pulls into their driveway, Toby thanks his lucky stars that they chose to live in Happy’s apartment--his apartment would have meant five more minutes on the road. She puts the car in park and quickly unbuckles her seatbelt, watching as he does the same. He’s by her side of the truck before she moves, opening her door for her in a moment of tenderness. She has a feeling there’s not going to be much of that tonight. They’re too pent up; there’s not a doubt about it. Three weeks on that damn island of death (and no privacy) really put a damper on their sex lives. Add in that it was supposed to be their honeymoon...it’s a miracle they didn’t kill anyone for their cockblocking shenanigans.

She steps out, lining up with his shoulder despite her heeled combat boots, pressing the door closed with her back. He’s hovering over her, inches away from her face, each of them breathing each other’s air. His arms come to box her in and she smirks. She’s so not making it into the costume this round. Her breathing is rough and shallow, her minty mouthwash cooling his face with every ragged exhale. 

He smiles, eyes dark with lust, leaning even closer to her lips. She feels his breath caressing her lips and tries to push him along, but he’s not rushing, not yet. He decides to skip her trembling lips altogether, instead nuzzling into her neck and pressing a few light kisses to the sensitive skin there. She groans in frustration, moving her hands higher and pushing against the back of his head, trying to bring him back to her lips. He chuckles, the movement making goosebumps rise across her flushed flesh, but doesn’t acquiesce to her demands. Instead, he moves his arms from their brackets and slides them down and in, getting closer and closer to her ass. When he finally reaches his destination, he gives her hips a squeeze. She moans, itching for more contact, and sighs when his hand reaches lower. But he doesn’t stop where she wants him to. He keeps going until his right hand is where her ass meets her legs before scooping her up in his arms, supporting her upper body with his left arm. She squeaks a little in surprise--not that he’s going to mention it because he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate the terminology--before finally settling in his arms and shooting him a rather unimpressed look. 

“I’m carrying you over the threshold, Mrs. Curtis,” he croons, relishing at her disgruntled expression. She’s so damn adorable. 

“First, it’s still Quinn.” She wraps her right arm around his neck. “And second, you had to do this now?” Her voice is so frustrated, she’s almost whining. 

“We didn’t get to do it before,” he says easily. He’s enjoying this, she’s sure of it. She wiggles a little in his hold, trying desperately to satisfy her need for a release, as he walks her to their door. He unlocks the door a bit clumsily and she would laugh if it wasn’t delaying their “friendly, friendly friend’s” time.  
Another thirty seconds and he has the door swinging open, clanging against the wall of the hall, neither caring too much about the possible damage. He carries her over the threshold, his brown orbs locking with hers. Because that’s their thing--the silent conversations, the outpouring of a love so sweet and tender and passionate and without a need for language. He smiles gently, touching his forehead with hers one step in the door, just breathing in her scent. She doesn’t smell like the usual Happy--lavendar with a smidge of motorcycle grease--because she showered at the garage, but the green apple shampoo is pleasant. There’s still a bit of her mixed in with the sweet smell, a little bit of her that never leaves. When he finally pulls back, he gingerly sets her on her feet and turns to close and lock the door behind them. 

Once he’s finished, he turns around, only to see her mimicking his stance from outside. Her hands are by his shoulders, her pelvis pressing his hips against the door. She gyrates her hips slowly, pressing herself deeper into his, her breath coming out as short and fast puffs on his collarbone. He groans, his arms, once by his side, now wrapping around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. He feels her smile against his skin before kissing her way up his chest, then over to his left ear. He shudders as she nibbles lightly on his earlobe. She smirks; however, it’s short-lived. Using the strength she often forgets he has, he deftly spins her around, changing their positions in an instant. She groans as he begins his assault on chest, easily pulling down her worn t-shirt to expose the tops of her breasts. He licks a path from left to right before slowly, tantalizingly, pulling down her bra until it’s sitting just beneath her breasts. He starts to work one quickly, sucking and licking deeply, while his other hand massages and tweaks the other. She gasps as he nibbles on the underside of her flesh, her pelvis moving up and down, trying to find some stimulation. He switches breasts and the cool air causes her abandoned nipple to tighten in response, yearning for more. 

She’s panting now, and by the time he leaves her chest and moves to lick the shell of her ear, she is vibrating with energy. As he moves to pay attention to her pulse point, sucking a mark so incredibly deep, her toes curl and she hisses through the pain. It quickly turns to desire, however, as she feels her center growing wetter. “I need you,” she pants, moving her right hand to his curls, holding his face to her skin.

He chuckles, sliding his hands down to brush his fingers over the toned skin of her waist. He allows her to shuck off her leather jacket and kick off her boots, struggling a bit, but her heels eventually do the job well enough. Once they’re off, she slides down slightly, no longer as tall, and he adapts by finally, finally connecting their lips in a searing kiss. She swallows his moan, opening her mouth wider and allowing his tongue entrance as his hands grip her face. He’s relentless, licking around the inner crevices of her mouth and pulling her deeper into his embrace. They finally part when the need for air becomes too much to bear and he leans his forehead against hers, both panting. 

When he leans back, arms back on the exposed skin of her waist, she smirks, her pupils nearly black. Slowly, she reaches her hands down to meet his and brushes over his knuckles before grabbing the edges of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Then, she reaches behind her back jutting her hips out more than necessary just to tease him, and deftly unhooks her bra, letting it fall carelessly to the ground. She leans forward, catching his lips once more, as she unbuttons her black skinnies and shimmies them down her legs. After she kicks them off, she pulls back and leans her back against the chilled wood of their front door.

Her chest is rising and falling in huge heaves, her breasts rising up and down, so hypnotizing that Toby can’t help by gravitate to them once more. He cups and squeezes them both, then plants an open-mouthed kiss on the top of each teardrop. 

When he detaches himself from her skin, he takes in the whole image. Happy. His wife. Flushed with desire and sexual tension. Hair askew, a few curls poking through. Chest, lovely. And, looking down, his eyes widen: she isn’t wearing any panties. She grins, her hands making their way to his shoulders, her grasp firm. “I didn’t have any to change into at the garage.” She sighs.

“Go-bag?”

“Used it last time we got--” she hisses as he pushes two fingers into her without restraint--“it on in the truck.”

He smirks, swirling his fingers inside her core, enjoying the little sounds she makes. When he adds a third finger to the mix, she starts moaning, clutching onto his shoulder, nails digging into the flesh there, trying to ground herself. “You are,” she says, breathing between each word, “entirely overdressed.” She leans her head back, meeting his hooded eyes with a sultry smirk. “Don’t you think?”

He raises his eyebrows, but pulls his fingers out with ease. Bringing them up to his mouth, he sucks her essence off, finger by finger, not breaking eye contact with her the entire time. By the time he’s reached the last finger, she’s had enough of his teasing. She brings his lips to hers and enjoys the tingling sensation of her own taste on his mouth, all the while shoving his pants to the ground. He kicks them off the rest of the way, toeing off his socks and shoes as well, his hands roaming all over her sharp, defined curves. After another minute of making out, Happy pushes roughly against his chest. When she’s content that he’s far enough way, she repositions her hands to the edges of his shirt, moving it up inch by inch, kissing each patch of exposed skin as she does so.

When she finally pulls it over his head, she uses her hands to press him closer to her. “Sugarplum?” Toby asks, bucking his hips against hers, teasing her. 

“God, yes,” she moans, her hands scratching up and down his back. As soon as she says the words, he hooks his hands under her ass once again and lifts her a few inches higher, then connects their lips. He sucks her lower lip into his mouth before lining them up and entering her fluidly. 

“Fuck,” she expels, the sudden intrusion setting her fire to her nerves. His face falls to her shoulder and he bites down as his hips pick up speed. She’s so wet; the movement is so seamless between them. And, yet, he still groans at the tightness of her walls. 

She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer still. She sighs in bliss as his member hits lightly against her cervix, her pleasure multiplying. He then slithers his right hand between their joined bodies, rubbing rough circles around her clit, still pumping his hips. 

His lips leave her shoulder and instead latch onto her neck, sucking another mark on her. It’s higher than she usually allows, but when she grabs him by the neck to keep him anchored to the spot, he knows she doesn’t care. They have the next two weeks off anyway. He continues to suck the tanned flesh beneath him until it’s dark and tender, before meeting her eyes. She’s biting her lower lip, breath low and hurried, and he knows she’s on the edge. He pinches her clit ever so slightly and catches her lips with his before he feels her walls fluttering around him. She breaks away from him, panting, eyes shut in utter euphoria, as wave after wave crashes through her body.

Her contracting walls are enough to push Toby over the precipice, too; her spasms milk his raging orgasm as the pleasure surges through his body. As he rides out his orgasm, he leans his forehead against the door, his body falling limp on top of hers. She sighs, her hand absentmindedly running through his curls, holding his weight against her. 

When they both come down from their highs and their breathing begins to return to normal, Toby murmurs, “Happy Honeymoon, Hap.”

Happy laughs, the sound light and free. “Ditto.” 

They’ve been standing in silence for a few moments, relishing in the skin-on-skin contact, when Toby says, “Still up for the costume?”

He feels her grin against his shoulder. “Hell, yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was well-worth the read! It's been a while since I've written anything remotely smutty, so kudos and feedback are always appreciated!


End file.
